


Rushes and Reeds

by ravenclawkohai



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Rusalka (Water Spirit), Sirens, mermaid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenclawkohai/pseuds/ravenclawkohai
Summary: Cloud has a run-in with the local rusalka.(Mermaid AU)





	Rushes and Reeds

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer that the extent of what I know about rusalka came from a quick google search, so this was more loosely inspired and not so much an accurate representation of any lore.

               Cloud knew full well that he as in for it if he was caught. He knew—he _knew_ he wasn’t supposed to go to the river this week. Everyone knew not to go to the water this week. If he survived this and his mother found out, she’d kill him for being so stupid. But he was desperate. Their collection of rainwater had run dry and, for once, there wasn’t even a wisp of cloud in the sky. He could get by on the ale they had left, but his mother was sick. She needed water, and the only water available was the river.

               He’d taken all the precautions he could, but his options for that were limited too. He had an iron nail in his pocket and used chalk to write symbols for protection on the soles of his shoes. He took his mother’s white and red scarf, the one he had seen her weave and undo and reweave so many times over the years, braiding different meanings in the patterns to suit the seasons or her needs. She had promised to teach him, and he knew the basics, but not enough to fully understand what the current reading was. But he knew it was always a charm, and hopefully, it would be enough to keep him safe. He buried his face in the folds of it, where it was wrapped around him.

               He crested the hill lining the edge of the river and looked down to it, nervously fiddling with the nail in his pocket.

               He made his way down the bank, tip-toeing and creeping more than walking. He told himself he’d move with surety when he got here in hopes of projecting enough confidence to keep him safe. That had quickly gone out the window.

               Instead, he was glancing around quickly and trying to tread as silently as possible as he made his way through the rushes and reeds. So far so good.

               He got to the waterside and hesitated for one long, long moment before breathing out a sigh of relief. Surely, if anything was going to happen, it would have by now.

               He stooped and began filling his large jug with water, and then almost dropped it.

               “What are you doing?”

               He had to scramble to keep hold of the jug.

               _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._

“H-hello,” he said, looking up nervously. What he saw confirmed every last one of his fears.

               The creature in front of him was pale as moonlight with long, deep green hair that matched the moss on the nearby rocks and bright, bright green eyes that seemed to glow, though there was no pupil to be seen. It was sunk up to its chin in the water.

               Rusalka.

               “What are you doing?” it asked again, watching him with those unblinking eyes. Cloud’s muscles felt like they were made of lead.

               “Getting water,” he answered.

               “It’s the Rusalnaya, you know.”

               Gods damn it all, he didn’t need the confirmation. He’d hoped he was wrong about his assessment of the creature’s nature.

               “I know.”

               “No one comes to the water during the Rusalnaya.”

               “I know.”

               “It’s dangerous.”

               “I know.”

               “Why are you here?”

               Cloud hesitated, but straightened up with a frown, holding the jug half-submerged in one hand. He fiddled with the nail in his pocket with the other.

               “My mother’s ill. She needs water, and we’re out,” he explained, then gave a lengthy pause before continuing. “Are you going to kill me?”

               “It is the Rusalnaya.”

               His heart stopped.

               “I should have killed you already,” it said, head tilting to one side.

               “I’d… appreciate it if you didn’t.”

               The creature smiled slowly, showing a mouthful of fangs that made Cloud shiver.

               “I imagine you would.”

               The rusalka rose slowly, water rushing down its body and pouring through its hair. It came to standing, the water covering just about it— _his_ hips. His. Almost all rusalka were women. Male rusalka were fables, and even most old housewives couldn’t agree whether or not they existed.

               That was even worse for him.

               Cloud’s heart stopped in his chest. He knew—he _knew_ the danger of the rusalka. Beautiful and deadly as foxglove. As alluring as they were ruthless, and the green-eyed were the worst. The _men_ were supposed to be the worst. But _gods_ , he was beautiful. Everything about him was stunning in a way that made Cloud’s heart pang and twist with longing. For the first time, he truly _yearned_.

               The rusalka held a hand out.

               He took a step forward without even thinking.

               He took another step.

               He forced himself to a stop with the third.

               The rusalka’s mouth twisted with displeasure.

               “Please,” he said, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t begging. “My mother won’t make it without me.”

               He looked at Cloud, not with offense, but with innocent confusion.

               “I don’t understand your point.”

               “Please, let me go back to her. She needs me.”

               “But it’s the Rusalnaya. It’s our week. You came to me during our week; you’re mine to keep.”

               “I know, but you’ve already made exceptions, haven’t you? You’re still in the water. You’re not in the trees brushing your hair, you’re not with your fellows, you’re not dancing. Can’t you make one more exception?”

               “Those are only traditions.”

               “Isn’t taking anyone who comes to you also a tradition?”

               The rusalka frowned.

               “It’s my right.”

               “One that tradition gives you.”

               He huffed and held his hand out again.

               And again, Cloud stumbled a few steps, and then, in a move of sheer obstinacy, let his legs fold beneath him.

               The water splashed up as he dropped into it, his jug landing in the nearby rushes, the water coming up to his collarbone. The rusalka frowned and approached, sinking into the water in front of him.

               “You’re very stubborn.”

               “I’ve been told that before.”

               A silence hung between them, the rusalka looking and him and him looking at the rusalka. The longer they sat there, the harder his heart raced. It was pounding like a drum in his ears, and he felt breathless. He’d never _wanted_ this way before. He was like a man in the desert, dying of thirst. He was like a man in a tundra, desperate for heat. Somehow, this man could solve every problem he had. There would be no pain, no struggle, no suffering if he went with him. There would be nothing but sweetness in his arms. There would be—

               “ _No_ ,” Cloud snapped.

               He found that he had been leaning forward, hands creeping through the water to reach out toward the rusalka, who leaned back from him with a petulant frown.

               “I don’t understand.”

               “Look, how about we make a deal?” he asked. He was reaching at this point, he knew he was, but he had to try something.

               It was a long moment before he said, “I’m listening.”

               “It has to get lonely out here, right? Rusalka don’t share their waters, and you take everyone who comes to you. If you let me go, I’ll come back. If you let me come and go, I’ll keep you company.”

               The look the rusalka gave him was nothing if not wary. This was unorthodox, to say the least. It wasn’t how things were done, and they both knew it. He settled back in the water, his long hair floating through the water like seagrass, and folded his knees up to his chest, lacing his fingers over them and resting his chin against them. It looked like he was sitting on something, as no one could float like that, but rules were different with water spirits in their own homes.

               “You’ll keep coming back.”

               “That’s right.”

               “How do I know you won’t just leave and never return?”

               “How do I know you won’t just take me any time I do return?”

               The rusalka very clearly didn’t like his questions.

               “I don’t like trusting humans.”

               “I don’t have very much experience trusting rusalka, either, so we’ll just both have to take a chance here.”

               The creature sniffed derisively and looked away.

               Cloud softened, saying, “I know a little bit about being lonely. The only one I have is my mother, but that’s at least one person. If I can help make you a little less lonely, I’d like to.”

               It was the wrong answer. He was given nothing but bared, fanged teeth.

               “I don’t want your pity,” he hissed, and Cloud flinched back.

               “That’s not what I meant,” he insisted. “Just that I can empathize, and that I want to help.”

               The rusalka paused and watched him for a long, long moment. Long enough that Cloud started to feel sick with nerves. He was clearly about to be shot down.

               “If we do this, we make a proper agreement.”

               Part of Cloud wanted to jump to accept. Part of him was immediately put on guard.

               “What does that mean?”

               “Rusalka seal everything with a kiss.”

               “… You understand how that sounds, don’t you?”

               “I’ll close my eyes; there will be no effect on you. If I take you now, you can’t come back.”

               Cloud watched him closely, searching for a hint of duplicity, of ulterior motive. The rusalka watched him with a calm, even expression, those flickers of annoyance gone. His wide, wide eyes were unblinking, and his head tilted to the side, pulling his hair through the water. At length, Cloud sighed heavily.  

               “Close your eyes, then.”

               With that, the rusalka blinked once in surprise, before a smile came over his face. It wasn’t the predatory grin he’d seen before. It wasn’t the angry baring of teeth—in fact, he didn’t see a glimpse of fang at all. It was an almost sweet upturn of the lips, and that was all.

               “We state intentions first,” the rusalka said before straightening up. “I, Sephiroth, swear not to take…”           

               “Cloud Strife.”

               “Cloud Strife, until such a time that we agree he will go with me.”

               He gestured toward Cloud.

               Cloud cleared his throat.

               “I, Cloud Strife, swear to visit Sephiroth and keep him company, until such a time that we agree I will go with him.”

               There was that small smile again, and then Sephiroth’s eyes fluttered shut.

               And it was like a switch was flipped. Suddenly, the glamor of the rusalka was gone. He was still gorgeous, that was certain, but he was now as strange as he was beautiful. His hair looked like seaweed, his strange eyes glowed through his eyelids in a way that was off-putting. His skin was so pale it looked clammy and almost sickly. For the first time, he seemed just a little like the monster everyone said rusalka were.

               He could leave. He could make a run for it, and there was a fair chance he’d make it.

               But a sadness welled in him in that moment. Sephiroth was alone, with no hope of ever _not_ being alone. Seeing him like this only confirmed it—even if he could leave the river, without the charm of his eyes, he would always be so strange that no one would want to be around him. But people also said that Cloud was so strange, and it certainly seemed like no one wanted to be around _him_. That pang of empathy was enough.

               Sephiroth’s lips were cold when they met Cloud, but the second they touched, Cloud gasped against his mouth. He was filled with a warmth, and that longing was back a thousand fold. He reached out and, desperate for stabilization, clung to Sephiroth’s shoulders, whose clawed fingers took him by the elbows to hold him steady. His face twisted with need as he pressed forward, turning the kiss into something far less chaste. They shared breath, Cloud’s hot and quick, Sephiroth’s cool and sweet.

               Cloud didn’t even feel when Sephiroth’s claws dug into the flesh above his elbows. He didn’t feel anything other than Sephiroth and pure want until the rusalka took him by the chin and pulled him away.

               “Please, don’t tempt me,” he whispered.

               And it was over. His eyes were still shut, and though they were still touching, the spell had passed.               

               Cloud blushed, mortified with his behavior, and hurried to shuffle backwards in the water.

               “I’m—uhm, sorry, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to.”

               That smile returned briefly as Cloud moved to a safe distance before Sephiroth opened his eyes again.

               “I know you didn’t,” he said, shifting in the water to reach into the reeds. He plucked out Cloud’s jug and, dipping it into the river, filled it. He held it out toward Cloud.

               “You’ll return, yes?” Sephiroth asked as Cloud took his jug and stood.

               “I promised, didn’t I?” he said, and the reserved smile returned.

               “Yes. You did.”

               Cloud answered the smile without even intending to, wrapped up in Sephiroth’s quiet joy. He climbed out of the river, but paused on the bank, turning back.

               “I’ll come back tomorrow,” he promised.

               Sephiroth was further back in the river, now. He was floating as he had been before, his knees to his chest, his fingers around his knees and his chin atop them. His hair pooled around him and floated in the gentle currents of the river. He still looked strange, and he still looked alluring, but he also looked innocent, and very far from the nightmare Cloud had been warned about for years.

               “I’ll be waiting,” Sephiroth said.

               Cloud nodded once and turned, making his way from the river.

               He was the first person he’d heard of surviving a rusalka encounter during the Rusalnaya, but he didn’t feel victorious or triumphant. He simply felt excited.

               For the first time in a very, very long time, he had a new friend.


End file.
